Into the
Rough

We waved
and smiled at Spot and Hitchhiker as we drew level near the
roundabout on the A355 in the toxic wastelands of Slough. They waved
and smiled back, turning right at the roundabout while we carried
straight on. Interesting. Watching in the mirror, I saw them come all
the way round the roundabout and follow up behind us. Then get into
the right-hand lane at the traffic lights as we got in the left. They
waved and smiled. Hmm. Vehicular obfuscation designed to cause us
ambulatory anxiety. It was working. Had we gone wrong? Well, yes, as
it happens. We went rather North of where we were supposed to be.
Fortunately not landing up in Egypt! Yes, Egypt. Near Farnham. Which
is not in Surrey. But we still got there before Spot and Hitchhiker
arrived.

This pub
was much further East than our usual venues. Nice change. And the
Trail wound through some excellent woodlands near Pinewood studios.
“Why are they called Pinewood Studios?” Asked Lemming of
Desperate while she gazed vacantly skyward through the lofty pines
that littered the woods and failed to answer the question. Sometimes
one has to wonder…

Spot
continued his (successful) attempts to confuse people by hiding next
to a False as we all hurtled towards it down a narrow alleyway. He
grinned like the Cheshire Cat on smack when we arrived, the little
tinker. This early part kept us all together very well since we all
kept running off towards trees and countryside and the Trail kept on
pulling us back on to tarmac and suburbia. The FRBs hurtled off again
and again only to be disappointed and hurtle back. It was Hashing
Brownian Motion. Until we hit the golf course and headed for
countryside. Curiously, the hackers, shankers and whackers didn’t
seem to mind us. Though we were very polite – waiting quietly
for each poor duffer to fluff his shot and offering only tacit advice
(“Little low in the shoulder there. Oh dear – should have
kept that head down. Crikey, that rabbit is unconscious” etc)
as they replaced the massive divots and trundled on. I can’t
remember who told me the apocryphal story about Jenks who,
whilerunning across a golf course, was asked what he was doing by a
golfer. After he had explained the golfer guffawed and stated how
stupid the whole Hashing idea sounded. Jenks responded by telling the
fellow that at least he wasn’t a prat who wandered round a
field trying to hit a little ball into a hole with a stick. Luckily
for him, Jenks could run quite fast in those days. While we tripped
along the footpath I heard Desperate living up to her name –
she was chatting up new bloke Jeff. It was damn nearly as bad as Spex
with young Will last week. What is it with Plus Fours anyway? All
that baggy material round the knees. Does it provide plenty of room
to keep your balls. Perhaps warm places for a pair of sleeping
ferrets? Does the bagginess show off your shapely calves? Maybe we
should get some for Florence? Just to digress for a moment – I
thought I’d look up the definition of Plus Twos to see what the
difference was between them and Plus Fours. Sometimes the internet
can throw you the odd curveball. Apparently, in urban slang Plus Twos
are the name of breast implants, since the lady on the receiving end
of said chicken fillets usually increases her cup size twofold (Motox
– if I’ve lost you I’ll explain later). The website
went on to display a (non-definitive) list of alternative terms for a
lady’s enhanced(?) bosom. I’d never heard of some of them
so forgive me for reproducing part of the list here. Such as: bolt
ons, hooters, air bags, ben and jerry, blinkers, high beams, yazoos,
wilsons, snow tyres, rib bumpers, muffins, neenies and honkers. And
you can bet your last red cent none of those terms were coined by
women. Ladies, how on earth do you put up with us?

To
continue the ‘off-road’ course of this Gobsheet I have
here to mention Whinge who, on Friday and after several pints,
solemnly informed me I should try and work the rather arcane word
‘merkin’ into the Gobsheet. A difficult one. Itsyor’s
request last year for ‘tussocks’ was much easier.
However, the Lord of Hashing moves in mysterious ways. Just as I
caught up with Shitfor, Desperate and Lemming after the golf course I
realised they were discussing this very topic. No, not tussocks.
Merkins. And Lemming had just asked the question, “Well what
would you use one for?” His ovoid bald head bobbed along next
to me. There was only one answer really wasn’t there? I think
he found the idea quite appealing. There you go Whinge. Ask and ye
shall receive.

The equal
best surreal moment was when I caught up with Little Stiffy as we
crossed a field of rather weedy-looking white and mauve turnips.
Across the field, beyond a fence, gambolled a small herd of brown and
furry cattle who seemed intrigued and excited by the Hash’s
progress. Little Stiffy, as Hare, carried a bottle filled with flour.
Puddles littered the surface of the field. In next to no time we were
discussing the possibility of feeding the Hash by making a very large
pasty with the flour and water, and filling it with the nearby meat
and veg. Nourishing and tasty. What more could you want?

We hurtled
into the forest, led by (gulp) OldDog who was bouncing around like a
puppy on heat. Excellent running by our BH3 mascot. We
thoroughly enjoyed crackling through the dry-leaved (mainly pine)
forest and all fetched up at some kind of mini wooden Stonehenge at
the Regroup with a square wooden plinth in the centre. The plinth
extended about three feet off the ground and its flat top had been
hollowed slightly in the middle. A copper sheet had been hammered
into it, with a shallow gutter extending out to one side. The surreal
crept in again as we each offered our version of its purpose. Until
we decided it was a crack heater. Which was when C5 sat his (crack
that is) on top of it. Hugely amusing until he rose and we saw the
burnished surface was really quite damp. With steam rising. A mass
outbreak of ralphing, puking and pizza parking was only stopped as we
On Outed again as fast as we could go. The Short trailers one way;
the Long Trailers the other.

It was a
fast and enjoyable cruise through the woodland, meeting several dogs
and owners. Wondering if the blobs we saw were from the Bash that had
been laid at the same time! The Hares loved that! After a quick
Regroup at the car park where we bumped into JWax we sped off and
Cerberus and I found ourselves alone… but for three teenagers
and a motorbike. They were actually quite helpful, pointing out the
flour they had seen and stopping their bike. But their faces were
smooth and curiously blank. The sound of ‘Duelling Banjos’
began to filter into my head. Time to go.

Luckily,
it wasn’t long before we caught up with the Short Trailers and
a brief sprint saw us back to the pub… and no real ale!
Disaster. At least they had Guinness. Excellent Trail in a different
location. So thanks Hares. And the sun came out for us – how
nice!

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the
following (mainly with halves the tight bugger) :-

Name

Reason

Style
points

Mark,
Jeff

Our
two virgins

Knocked
back in style

Shitfor

Doing
the Bash as well as the Hash

Not
too difficult

Desperate

Getting
her car valeted while she Hashed

Ditto

Quack

Today’s
returnee

Ditto
again (it was only a ½ you see)

OldDog

FRB’ing

Like
quicksilver

BullyBullshit

Who,
with his tonsure, appears to be thinking of becoming a monk

The
only fryer he knows about is the one in the chip shop

Little
StiffySlackbladderQuack

Our
Hares today

Pints
finally put in an appearance and were neatly downed by one an all

Up and
Coming

Run

Date

Grid
Reference

Venue

Hares

1634

15/03/09

822794

The
Seven Stars, Bath RoadKnowl Hill RG10 9UR

CloggsNonStick

1635

22/03/09

Now
not too sure. Cheating announced (by proxy, of course) that the
venue has probably changed. Guess we’ll find out when the
great man deigns to inform us.

Allegedly
Cheating and others. But who knows?

Put a
Spring In Your Step…

With Motox’ Spring
walk on Saturday 28th March at 11 a.m. Starting at the
Savacentre car park petrol station (M4 J12) at 654718 the walk will
be approximately 8½ miles long with a pub stop or bring a
snack/drink. See Motox for full details.